Priorities
by Travithian Axile
Summary: Item One: Misplace memo to attend company party. Suggestions: pet Doberman, fire, Palmer's tea etc. Zack has a way of changing people's views about the most important things in their lives. Christmas fic, one-shot.


**Title:** Priorities  
**Characters:** Zack, Sephiroth  
**Rating:** G  
**Word Count:** 2104  
**Summary:** Christmas fic, one-shot. Zack has a way of changing people's views about the most important things in their lives.

**Notes:** Standalone, though possibly Alone compliant. Written to break FFVII fic block. Finished just in time at half an hour to midnight. Originally intended to be short, sweet, mindless fun; kind of exploded because Zack decided to have _insights. _Happy holidays, everyone!

* * *

Sephiroth stared at the schedule his aide had drawn up for the day.

The first item began: '8.00AM: Misplace memo to attend company party. Suggestions: pet Doberman, fire, Palmer's tea etc. etc.'

The second wasn't much better. Nor was the third, fourth, or—his gaze travelled down the list in diminishing hope—the last, which ran thusly: 'Midnight: Morale boosting event. Convene with men (superior wit and company guaranteed) in canteen and get roaringly drunk.'

He sighed and lowered the paper to meet the eyes of his newest _aide-de-camp, _who despite a month of appointment and an impeccable recommendation letter still strove to test the General's patience in all things possible, including his persisting failure bordering on insolence to quail under specially crafted _looks _that had had lesser—and far more perspicacious—men trembling in their military-issue boots. True to form, those eyes currently contained little but innocence and injured puzzlement as to why his superior's hands were abusing his carefully designed list.

With effort Sephiroth relaxed his grip and put the paper back on the desk. He then put a hand to his head. Both actions were carried out with his trademark calm and precision, all the better to stave off an impending headache. First things first.

"Just what did you do with the memo?" he demanded.

In response Fair whipped a thankfully uninjured paper from the file he was holding. "I've been keeping it safe for you, sir!" he said brightly. Sephiroth's relief drained away as Fair rattled on like a particularly creaky and stubborn train, "I knew you'd want that pleasure _all _to yourself! Which will be your preference, sir?"

From one pocket Fair extracted what looked alarmingly like a fully mastered Fire materia. Sephiroth's patience frayed. "Your little joke is noted and duly unappreciated," he said coldly. "Kindly produce the _actual _schedule at once."

Whatever reply Fair might have had was lost in the strains of classical music that wafted through the air. "Someone at the door, sir!" Fair said, removing himself swiftly and wisely from the vicinity as well as Masamune's considerable reach. Sephiroth stood stock still, listening to the exchange of words that ensued. What he heard was not promising and did not help his ill-temper. The sight of the deliveryman and his burden confirmed his worst fears.

The man took one look at his glowering expression and almost dropped the oversized tree right then and there. Fair was on hand to helpfully prevent an accident and guide the festive tree to a picturesque spot in the corner, keeping up a steady stream of chatter designed to clear the looming tension. Despite this the deliveryman all but took to his heels when his job was completed without even bothering to get a signature.

Fair ticked off the second item on his own copy of the atrocious schedule. "8.30AM: Office redecorations. Done!" he pronounced with satisfaction.

Sephiroth regarded the colorful clump of vegetation cluttering up _his _office balefully. "Kindly explain yourself, Fair. I don't recall requesting you to procure such a...monstrosity."

"I was simply pre-empting your orders, sir!" Fair said, smiling maniacally. "This time of the year, anyone who celebrates the holiday puts up one as a symbol for their support of the season. We always have a little tree in the soldiers' barracks, sir. Showing our love for peace, goodwill, and our fellow men. Being General of the armed forces, I thought you'd be in on it, sir!"

Fair was going to break his face were that smile to stay there any longer. That was, if the Masamune didn't get there first, Sephiroth thought darkly. "That was...a huge assumption on your part, Fair," he said at last. "But I'll let it pass, since it is the least minor of your offences. Also, it raises a very important point. As the General, I do not have time to partake in your...entertainments, the choices of which hardly speak well of your taste and refinement. I have a job to do, rain, shine, or date. One last time, Fair: cease your joke, or depart this post, whether by your choice or mine."

Even Fair turned briefly pale at the threat in his voice. But the man's cheery disposition could bounce back from anything. "I regret to inform you that this is no joke, sir," Fair said sadly. "Your meetings have all been rescheduled for _after _the holiday season. Not by me!" he added quickly at the sight of Sephiroth's face. "It's a funny thing really...I was speaking on the phone with your contacts, and I just happened to mention, in admiring tones of course, your busy workload even through the holiday, how _ragged _you've been running...and the next thing I knew they were all clamoring to change their slots! Well, I couldn't just refuse their generosity, could I...? Heh...heh...heh." His nervous laughter died away into silence.

Obviously the man wasn't as much the buffoon he was pretending to be, if this was any indication. Sephiroth felt, suddenly, a little faint. A free day. He had a _free day_. He couldn't remember the last time he'd awoken to a day with _absolutely _nothing to occupy his time. Perhaps it was rage that he was feeling faint with. Yes, that was it.

Despite this he spoke calmly because he was damned if he let Fair provoke him into any sort of emotion. "The meetings might have been rescheduled, Fair, but the party cannot. I will be expected, to be seen and to mingle with important guests...with my loyal aide alongside me." He took a petty pleasure in making Fair wince.

"I was aware of that," Fair said glumly. "But...!" he rallied. "You've been attending the same old party for ages now, you must be bored out of your mind! Have you seen the invitation list? Same old faces, even the same old musicians...how many renditions of _Prez. Shinra's Coming to Town _can you take? I was only trying to save your sanity, sir!"

"Thank you for your concern," Sephiroth said dryly. "Though it is hardly warranted. As you no doubt desired, you are dismissed for the day. Report to the Shinra Ballroom at 8.00PM sharp tonight. I will be expecting you."

He began packing up his belongings, determined to put as much distance between him and his deeply exasperating aide as possible. What _were _they thinking, assigning this clown to him? Excellent credentials to be sure, but his administrative skills...left something to be desired.

After a minute, he realized that he still wasn't alone. He looked up. "Something the matter?" he enquired pointedly.

"What will you be doing for the rest of the day, sir?" Fair asked. He even had the gall to look worried, as though someone as well-respected and important as his General had nothing better to do than to go straight home and languish about until the clock ticked eight...actually, that was a fairly accurate, if depressing, summary of events.

"That is none of your business, Fair," he said stiffly, clicking the clasps of his briefcase shut. "If you are so concerned about _duty, _the latrines always require cleaning."

Undaunted, Fair leaned closer, risking both his career and his presently pristine uniform. "How will that help you, sir? I didn't go to all this effort—that is, you can't let such a rare opportunity like this slip away! When was the last time you had all this free time _and _such a handsome and knowledgeable guide willing to show you about town? If I were in those boots, sir, I'd be seizing my own hand about now!"

Sephiroth returned his hand to his head. "I've no need for your assistance," he began, but Fair steamrolled right over him. 'Besides, tell me, what's _really _going to happen if you don't show up?"

"The President will be very disappointed and angry," Sephiroth said. "We will have embarrassed him greatly in front of his guests."

"And he'll scold you for being such a naughty boy?"

"...In that vein, yes."

"And then he'll fire you on the spot and forbid you from ever darkening his door again?"

Sephiroth paused. "...No, he will not."

"Then what the heck are you _afraid _of?" Fair demanded, throwing up his hands. "You've been faithfully coming to the Grand Show-off right from the start. It's not like you _like _it either—I've seen you at those things. Why subject yourself to that misery?"

"You are a soldier, Fair," Sephiroth said, his temper slipping. "Do you simply obey orders because you fear the consequences? Don't be foolish. President Shinra is my benefactor; I am where I am now largely because of him. I attend because to do otherwise would display ingratitude."

Fair smirked, all traces of his idiot persona evaporating. "That's funny, sir. Did the Prez swing that sword for you in Wutai? Was he the one who won the war? 'Cause I don't remember that, and we were _both _there. Face it, General. Prez owes _you, _not the other way round. Not going to his stupid party isn't ingratitude or whatever. It's just a declaration that you'll take his orders but you sure won't take his shit, _General_."

Sephiroth sat still. "You tread on dangerous ground there, Fair," he said softly. "You, yourself a beneficiary of the Mako Program, can say such a thing?"

Fair shrugged. "Thanks to the Program, I can crack walnuts in one hand. But it could just as easily be a man's skull. I got strength, speed, all that stuff, cool beans. I also got good looks, friends, family, morals I guess. The Program didn't give _those _to me. If the Prez _really _did give you everything...then I'd feel sorry for you, General, absolutely I would."

"You don't know anything about me," Sephiroth said bluntly. For a thankfully brief moment, the truth strained at his tongue; every bit of it, the experiments, the missing scientist, the dark house that was all the child had known. Still, in return...he had survived and become strong, and that was almost a reward in itself, to carry that badge of honor with him always and have everyone look at him with fear, even those who had tormented him in childhood; a torment that would with certainty never happen again.

"What I _do _know," Fair said. "is that it _can't_ be everything. You haven't run me through with that sword yet for dissing the Prez. Not like some goddamn _robots _I could name." He smiled, quick as a sunbeam. "Well, the offer still stands. It's only open 'til eight tonight, though. I'll be there, 'cause if you go you'll need my moral support. Whether you realize it or not I _am _your loyal subordinate, sir. I won't bother you any longer, see ya!"

With that disgustingly informal farewell Fair was gone. With any luck, _permanently _gone. The next thing on his agenda—the genuine one—was filing a dismissal form with Fair's name on it, much as he would dearly love a more punishing form of dismissal for the man's impertinence.

He straightened the papers in his out-tray, junked the messages in his in-tray wishing him a happy holiday, wavered about a few moments; then left, defeated by his tidy office.

He went home—where else? He read. He failed to finish the book for about the eighth time. His gaze and concentration kept slipping away elusive as the shadows across his hardwood floor. Eventually he got up and stabbed a dozen imaginary Zack Fairs to death with the Masamune, never mind the holes in his walls. That made him feel immeasurably better.

...It was almost time. He pulled on more appropriate clothes and departed again.

* * *

Fair was smart enough to keep quiet when Sephiroth caught him in front of the Shinra building. The only thing he said was: "I've got a change of clothes in my bag. Hang on a minute."

That blessing could not continue for long. Ten minutes towards the theatre, he produced the memo he'd somehow filched from Sephiroth's desk and waved it teasingly. "So, come up with anything, sir?"

"Just dispose of it in the nearest trash receptacle," Sephiroth said. "Where it belongs."

Fair smiled and did as ordered. For once.

The snow crunched under their boots, dirty with soot. The ever-present smog veiled any beauty the stars might offer from view. Back in the ballroom, the guests in their impeccable gowns would be drinking spiced wine under the glitter of a thousand crystals and enjoying the talented if repetitious crooning of the singers.

_That _schedule was predictable, though. He knew how it ended. When it came to what Fair had planned, in contrast...this was only the beginning.

-_end-_


End file.
